were aboard her.
Captain Reddy wearily climbed the ladder and returned to his chair. He waved the men back to their duties at the warning: “Captain on the bridge!” He hadn’t been gone fifteen minutes. A rising tension knotted his chest, and though he thought he hid it well, his concern over Mahan was making him almost ill. He had a terrible choice to make.
The windows had been replaced, and once again he could look at the sea ahead without the wind stinging his eyes. Larry Dowden had the watch, but Matt couldn’t stay off the bridge. He knew it looked bad, like he didn’t trust Larry, but he’d hardly left at all except to go to the head.
“Report?”
“No contact, Skipper.”
Matt nodded and resumed his silent brooding. They should have seen her. The weather was fine, the sky clear. The northeast tip of Alor Island was sharp and defined ten miles off the starboard beam. They’d reached the rally point. It had been agreed that they would meet here, or if Walker didn’t make it Mahan would cut northeast around Wetar and drive south between Timor and Moa Island. Walker had cruised at twenty knots, but Matt was certain Jim wouldn’t have pushed Mahan so hard. Even if he somehow beat them here, he would have lingered, and should have been visible on such a clear day. That left only the inescapable conclusion that she hadn’t come this far. They must have passed her somehow, maybe in the dark, but she must be behind them. Unless something had happened to her.
That thought haunted him. It was his order that sent her away and led to this wasteful chase. He couldn’t have known separation was unnecessary, but that did little to console him. Now the specter that haunted all destroyermen could no longer be avoided. Walker’s fuel bunkers were down by a third. He had no choice. He spoke with a heavy heart.
“Mr. Dowden, bring the ship about. Reduce speed to one-third.”
Larry sighed. He knew how painful the order was. He wasn’t sure he could have made it. Maybe the other ship really was behind them, but it felt too much like giving up.
“Aye, aye, sir. Helm, come left to a heading of two eight zero.”
Matt stood and looked at his watch. “Pass the word, Mr. Dowden. All officers in the wardroom at 1630.” He paused. “Better see that our ‘guest’ is moved elsewhere.” He turned to leave the bridge but stopped. “I take that back. Have Sergeant Alden escort the enemy officer to the meeting.” Dowden’s eyebrows rose. “Also, ask Mr. Bradford if he’d be kind enough to join us.”
“Aye, sir.”
Cigarette smoke swirled and eddied in the breeze from the open port-holes. The shell holes had finally been patched. Captain Reddy sat in his chair at the “head” of the table, all his surviving officers ranged down either side. The table was crowded, with representatives from each division. Larry Dowden, Chief Gray, Rick Tolson, Bernard Sandison, and PO Riggs sat on his left. On his right were Sandra Tucker, Spanky, Mr. Bradford, Garrett, and Lieutenant (j.g.) Alan Letts, the supply officer. The chair at the far end of the table was unoccupied. When Sergeant Alden escorted the Japanese officer into the compartment and seated him there, a hushed silence fell on the group.
Tamatsu sat with dignity, eyes fixed upon the captain. Alden leaned against the bulkhead behind his prisoner until Juan brought him a chair. He thanked the little Filipino and sat, his leg out in front of him. The room was charged with an electric hostility, and all eyes were on the enemy officer.
“This is Lieutenant Tamatsu Shinya. He’s offered his parole and I’ve decided to accept, conditionally. He’ll be treated with courtesy and allowed freedom of the ship-within reason. For now, however, he’ll be accompanied at all times by Sergeant Alden. Sergeant? Is that acceptable to you?”
“Aye, aye, sir. There’s not many places I can go now, though.”
Matt nodded expressionlessly. “Lieutenant Shinya, allow me to present my officers.” He named the others at the table, and they each acknowledged him with a nod, but most were clearly displeased. The reaction wasn’t lost on the captain. “Gentlemen… and lady, Lieutenant Shinya’s country and ours may still be at war-wherever they are-but that can no longer affect us. That’s what we have to talk about. We must make plans based on the assumption that we’re completely on our own and the United States Navy can’t support us. At the same time, we must remain conscious of the fact that, no matter what, we’re still part of that Navy. No relaxation of discipline will be tolerated, and there’ll be no change whatever in the way we run this ship. Lieutenant Shinya is here because he is, literally, in the same boat we are and he is subject to the same rules and regulations as anyone else. There’ll be no special treatment”-he looked at his officers with a grim expression-“or abuse. Mr. Dowden?”
“Uh, yes, sir?”
“Acquaint yourself with Lieutenant Shinya and discover if he has useful talents or abilities. One way or the other, find something for him to do. Everybody pulls their weight.” He looked at Tamatsu. “Is that understood, Lieutenant? Those are my terms.”
Shinya bowed his head slightly and replied. “I understand perfectly, Captain Reddy.” There were murmurs of surprise when he spoke English. Most still wore set, closed expressions, but a few looked thoughtful.
Matt plowed right on to divert attention from their visitor. “First, as I’m sure you’re aware, we’ve turned around. We should have found Mahan, but we didn’t, so either we passed her somehow or…” He cast a hard glance down both sides of the table. “Or she’s lost. We’ll search as we retrace our steps, but we don’t have enough fuel to go all the way to Australia and back to Surabaya. Besides, I don’t really think Perth’s there anymore.”
“You’ve considered the probability that Surabaya isn’t there either?” questioned Bradford.
“Yes. In fact, I don’t imagine it is. But we must have fuel. Whatever’s happened to the world, the geography’s the same-at least around here. Can you think of any better place to find oil within our range? To be more specific, since you’re our expert on this point, where around here would we most likely find oil? Oil that we can easily extract?”
Bradford steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful. The pipe between his teeth wasn’t lit, but he sucked it speculatively. “I’ll have to consider that. There’s oil in this entire region, but I’m not sure where best to look. Surabaya, perhaps. There were significant deposits there, in our world. Deposits have been discovered recently under Flores as well. Allow me to consult my manuals. Perhaps they will tell me where it was first found, and how. That might have a bearing on where to look.”
“Very well,” Matt replied. “See what you can find and let me know as soon as you can.” He shifted his gaze to Lieutenant McFarlane. “What else can we burn in the boilers? Can we burn wood?”
Spanky returned his gaze with horror. “Jesus, Skipper! You can’t put wood in my boilers! It would screw everything up!”
Matt looked at him sharply. “I know it’s not our first choice, but can it physically be done?”
“Yes, sir…” answered the engineer reluctantly, “but it would be terrible. All that ash-it would be hell gettin’ it all out and it would screw up the boilers. Besides, we’d have to carry tons of the stuff. We’ve got nowhere to stow it and if we load it on deck, we’ll be top-heavy as hell- beggin’ your pardon, sir.”
“But it would work in an emergency? To get us from one island to the next?”
“It would,” he answered miserably.
“Very well. Come up with a plan to stow enough wood to take us, say, five hundred miles, if the need should arise.”
“Aye, sir.”
The captain turned to Sandra Tucker, and involuntarily his expression softened. “Lieutenant Tucker. How are things in your department?”
Sandra smiled at the mention of “her department,” which consisted of herself, Karen Theimer-the only other nurse who’d remained with Walker-and Jamie Miller, the pharmacist’s mate. There was no question it was her department, though, and a critical one. “Improving, sir. I think Rodriguez might return to limited duty in a week or so. His leg is healing nicely.” She looked down the table past Tamatsu and glowered at Sergeant Alden. “Speaking of legs, though, there are some people running around on them that shouldn’t be.” Alden pretended interest in something under the table. “The others should survive, but it’ll take time. There’re plenty of ‘walking wounded’ still on duty, but even if I tried to keep them in their bunks, I don’t think I could.” She looked straight into Matt’s eyes and continued. “Right now, everyone’s keyed up, with so much work just to keep the ship going. When the crisis is past, I expect a lot of casualties from exhaustion. The crew’s burning itself up. Wearing out.” Matt noddedback at her, realizing she was talking about him as much as anybody. She continued. “Actually, the only one I’m really
